My friend Margaret was poised and slender.
I envied the braids that lay heavy on her back,
Those braids her mother plaited every morning,
I wondered what they talked about
While she wielded the brush ?
My mother was too busy for such fussing.
“Long hair saps your strength, she said,
“See how thin Margaret is, she easily catches cold!”
Margaret drew approval like a magnet.
Her refined fragility contrasted
my plump vigor. Her braids were
obviously the key to her charm.
surely long hair tumbling down my back
would sap my badness, make me as acceptable.
I longed for hair my mother would want to brush.
This entry was posted on Sunday, December 16th, 2012 at 9:42 pm
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